Post-party phone calls

Tonight I hosted a party to welcome all the new girls in the ward who are med student wives. It's a yearly tradition that started before I moved here and something I really look forward to. I had a lot of anxiety about this party, not because of the party itself- that was a cinch. A room full of fun women and no children- just good food and conversation? Yes, please.

What I was anxious about was after the party, when I sit down on the couch and call my mom so we can evaluate the night and talk about what worked and what didn't. She has been throwing parties for as long as I can remember. I loved helping her get ready for big parties at our house. My favorite job was and still is polishing the silver serving pieces and wiping off all the tarnish. (My least favorite job was wiping the dust off the silk plants she had.) I would also help her with the food: frosting grapes to go on the Thanksgiving turkey platter, or making chocolate haystacks to serve on little candy trays, or divinity (she and I recently had an argument about who makes better divinity.) I have called her after every party I have ever hosted. When I threw this party last year, I called her to tell her that our toilet broke right before my guests arrived, so I had to leave a note on the toilet asking people to find me so I could take them to the bathroom in our bedroom! We laughed and laughed about that. We would always talk about that post-party bliss, the great feeling you have after you've thrown a really great party and every one has gone home. You just replay your favorite parts of the night over and over in your head and think about them as you fall asleep... She and I both love that.

I am glad to get this first party over with though. I knew the first one would be hard, because the thought crossed my mind shortly after it happened. No more post-party phone calls with my Mom? I'd say, "Hi Mom, I just had a party. You know how I always have to call you after I have a party." And she would giggle and listen to me describe in detail my favorite parts of the night. I knew she loved these conversations as much as I did, because we both enjoy entertaining so much, and she taught me everything there is to know about throwing a party. She could take pride in my successes as a hostess because I learned so much from watching her. Like I said, I'm glad this first one is over. Tonight when I go to sleep, maybe I'll just replay the last post-party phone call I had with her in my head.

I served her favorite kind of homemade ice cream: raspberry. I'm feeling tired, so I'll post the picture tomorrow maybe. I used the same recipe as I did for the peach on the 4th of July. (Incidentally, my mom made homemade raspberry ice cream on the 4th of July.) I sort of screwed it up by adding too many raspberries, but I think I fixed my mistake by sweetening it with some powdered sugar. I think I'll post the recipe tomorrow, too.

Just a note about my blog- I want to thank all the people who read this blog and post comments or lend support in other ways, with phone calls, emails, or just when we run into each other. I'm probably the most surprised by how personal my blog entries are sometimes and how much I'm sharing here. I'm often rather private when I'm going through hardships or trials and so it's out of character for me to use this blog as a mouthpiece to work out some of my grief. One of the reasons I could afford to be so private in the past is I had two people I completely trust and to whom I could confide all my troubles and fears. While I am incredibly blessed to have my dear husband Bobby, the void my Mom has left is so great that I know there is not one person out there who could ever fill what I am missing so desperately. For whatever reason, this blog and all of you are really helping ease that pain.

I wanted to mention that I told my dad I was kind of nervous about after the party and not being able to call Mom and he jokingly said, "That's easy. Just call me. I was the one who did all the work for the parties anyway." I waited for a second for the lightning to strike from the heavens, but nothing happened.